


Ruin You

by omgbubblesomg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bottom Cole, Bottom Sam, Demon Dean, Episode: s10e01 Black, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Sam Whump, Tied-Up Sam, Top Cole, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would <i>dare</i> touch what was his.</p><p>“I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will <i>end</i> you.”<br/>“Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruin You

Sam’s consciousness made itself known in a sudden blaze of agony.

“How’s the chicken wing, kiddo?”

Sam screamed wordlessly when pain lanced through his arm again, pulling him further into wakefulness. He thrashed automatically, and tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t. Or, more precisely, he realised he _could_ open his eyes but couldn’t see out of them. He futilely shook himself to try and dislodge the bag over his head, and tried to make sense of his situation. His brain didn’t make it further than the realisation that he was sitting, and tied in place, before a hand clamped down on his broken arm and squeezed, throwing Sam’s body into spasms as it instinctively tried to get away. The hand squeezed tighter in response, and Sam screamed again.

“Perfect, Sammy, perfect. A little more of that and the two of us will get big brother in no time.”

Sam panted against the fabric, the inside of the bag getting hotter and hotter as Sam gasped at the remaining oxygen.

“Who-?” he tried, but quickly stopped when the hand landed back on his arm. It didn’t squeeze, this time, just lay passively against his skin.

“Who am I?” the voice asked. “I’m retribution. I’m deliverance. I’m death, and I’m here to kill your brother. Any ideas where he might be hiding, Sam?”

Sam groaned. “Are you a hunter?”

“A hunter? Sure. Yeah, we can go with that. Hunting your brother counts, right?”

Sam edged his fingers around the rope tying his hands together, feeling for a knot or a frayed edge. A subtle twist of his ankle confirmed that the small knife he kept hidden in his boot was still there. Unfortunately, his legs were restrained to the chair, so the boot knife was out, for now. A problem for later. In the meantime, he had to keep the faceless kidnapper talking.

“What do you want with Dean?” he asked.

“Dean and I have unfinished business,” the voice told him coldly. “Business that started when I was just a kid, but it’ll finish with my knife in his black heart.”

Sam wriggled a finger under a loose knot, and pulled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said. “Dean’s not exactly himself at the moment.”

“Dean won’t be exactly anything in a few hours, kiddo. But if he goes along nicely you’ll be walking out of here unharmed.” Sam grunted, his arm still throbbing. “Well, mostly unharmed,” the voice rectified. 

“Seriously,” said Sam, “Dean’s been, uh... well, there was this curse... Listen, I don't know what you want or what my brother did, but if you got any sense, I suggest you turn tail and run. Dean... Dean’s a demon.”

“Oh, I read all about your satanic shit, Sammy. This journal’s quite a piece of work. Don’t you worry about me, kiddo, I can handle any jumped up witch-worshipping your brother can throw at me.”

Sam felt the stranger lean in close, and he stilled his fingers, hoping the guy hadn’t seen the loosened ropes.

“Now I’m gonna call him,” the voice said softly, close to Sam’s ear, “and you’re gonna make that siren sound for him again, and you get to trade your life for his. No funny stuff, got it?”

A hand reached into the pocket of Sam’s jacket, just as he managed to pull a loop of rope free. The hand paused, then retreated, presumably taking Sam’s phone with it.

“What’s this?” the voice said, quietly, and Sam could hear the kidnapper walking behind him. “Look at you, making such quick work of my knots.”

Sam desperately tugged at the ropes, trying to get his hands free before -

_Whack._

Something hard and heavy collided with the unprotected softness of Sam’s belly. He lurched and wheezed, and his stomach automatically sought to empty itself. He gagged up a thin dribble of bile, and immediately choked on it, struggling for breath. He pulled a short gasp of air into his lungs, just as he was hit again.

 _Whack_.

“I thought I said,” said the voice, then Sam’s head snapped sideways as he got punched in the jaw, then punched again. “No. _Whack_. “Funny.” _Whack_. “Stuff.” A final punch to the side of his face, and then the bag was pulled over his head, and he blinked in the light, his lungs clawing at the air.

“Well well, Sammy, you sure do look inviting like this.”

Sam tried to process this over the sound of his own throat struggling for oxygen. He bent as far forward as the mangled rope around his wrists would allow, but couldn’t get his limbs to respond to any sort of useful command. The kidnapper stood in front of him with a bemused expression. Behind him, Sam saw an empty warehouse, and his duffel against the door. He had weapons in there too, if he could get to it. If he could get past the stranger.

He looked like a soldier. He held himself like a soldier, walked like a soldier, and even swung the crowbar in his hand like a soldier. If Sam had control of his voice box, he might have asked why a soldier was interested in a demon, but the guy wasn’t interested in any more talk. He stepped forward, raising the crowbar.

“I mean, you looked good before, but I think I prefer your face when it’s covered in blood.” He stepped forward again. “You know, I think that gives me an idea, kiddo.” Another step forward. He was directly in front of Sam now. “I’m Cole, by the way.”

And then the crowbar connected with the side of Sam’s face, and he surrendered to darkness.

\------------------ 

This time, Sam’s mind was heavily against the idea of waking up. Sam could hear someone talking distantly, but a part of him resisted the urge to listen. Something about an empty warehouse. His memory supplied the image of a crowbar, and he shied away from it. His brain felt as though it were sitting about two feet outside of his actual body.

“Welcome back, kiddo,” the voice was saying.

 _Cole_ , his brain helpfully supplied, and Sam jerked fully awake.

His face was a mask of pain, and his left eye was swollen shut. He gingerly poked at his teeth with his tongue, but couldn’t feel anything loose. The rest of him wasn’t faring well either. He was lying face down on a table, with his lower half slung over the side. His ankles were strapped to two table legs, pulling his feet wide. He tried to lift a foot, testing the weight of the table, and couldn’t even get it off the ground, though this was partly due to the awkward angle of the rest of his body. His wrists were handcuffed to the other end of the table, stretching him out across the wood. The cast on his broken arm was missing, and his flesh was already starting to purple from Cole’s treatment.

“Comfy?” asked Cole from behind him.

Sam didn’t respond, trying each of his restraints in turn. Cole waited patiently.

“You’ll find that these are a little harder to extricate yourself from,” Cole said, when Sam had exhausted himself against the shackles. “How’s the arm?” he added, and came around Sam’s side to grip the broken limb where it was stretched in front of him.

Sam grit his teeth and refused to scream.

“Ooh,” crooned Cole, “no siren song this time? That’s okay, Sammy, I’ve thought of a better way to get Dean’s attention.” He waved Sam’s phone in front of his face. “Shall we give big brother a call?”

Cole stepped away from the table, and dialled, changing the call to speaker phone so the ringing was clear in the warehouse. Sam had gone months and months without even hearing his brother’s voice, so even though he was cold, and bruised, and his mouth tasted like blood, his heart gave a sickening lurch when the call connected, and it was _Dean’s voice_  on the other end.

"I left you an open tab at the bar. Knock yourself out.”

Sam’s body strained at the shackles, automatically trying to get closer to the phone and to the sound of Dean.

“Well, hell, I just may take you up on that,” Cole replied.

Sam gave a particularly violent tug at the restraints, and his broken arm gave a particularly violent shudder of pain in response. The edges of his vision went black, but he struggled to remain conscious. Dean was on the other end of the line. _Dean_. There was so much he wanted to say. About how he’d left, and how Sam had promised himself that he’d get his brother back. About Metatron, and Crowley, and the rest of it. About how cold and empty the bunker was, and how cold and empty his bed was, too. How he couldn’t sleep at night without the sound of Dean’s breathing.

And then Cole was holding the phone out to him, and telling him to speak, and he finally had the opportunity to talk to his brother. Months of planning this conversation came and went in his mind, and went quiet. There was nothing he could say. Not in this moment. He stared at the phone in silence. Cole gripped his hair and tugged.

“Dean!” Sam gasped, and Cole let go.

“Proof of life!” he said to the phone.

Sam dropped his head. His forehead resting on the grainy table top. Dean was telling Cole that Sam’s problem was not his problem, and that he didn’t care if Sam got killed because of it.

“I thought you might say that,” said Cole. “Which is why I’ve prepared a little incentive to get you here faster.” Then he was putting the phone down on the table, a few inches from Sam’s head, and next to that he put a wickedly-sharp pair of scissors, and a small blue plastic square

 _He’s going to kill me with a pair of scissors_ , Sam’s mind thought despondently. 

“Tell big brother what you see, Sammy.”

“It-it’s a pair of scissors. And a piece of plastic.”

Dean snorted over the line. “You’ll have to do more than that to impress me, asshole.”

“Tell big brother what the piece of plastic is,” Cole prompted Sam, leaning heavily against his back and pushing the tops of his thighs into the edge of the table.

Sam blinked his one good eye at the little square, until he could make out the words stamped across it. He froze, and, sensing it, Cole chuckled.

“Go on, Sammy. Tell him.”

“It-It’s a,” he stammered, then cleared his throat. “It’s a condom.”

There was a full five seconds of silence.

Dean’s voice was quiet, and cold, and deadly.

“A what?”

Cole chuckled again, and reached around Sam to pick up the scissors.

“Sam and I are going to have a little fun before you get here,” he said, “so feel free to turn up at any time if you want to get little brother here out of trouble.”

Sam felt one of the scissor blades rest against the small of his back, the metal cold against his skin. Cole started cutting upwards, shredding Sam’s clothing as he went.

“You may want to hurry, though,” he said to the phone. “I’m not a patient guy, and your brother, well, he looks divine right now.”

The sound of a swerving car and a revving engine played out from the phone speakers. Dean was coming to get him.

The scissors turned and cut across his sleeves, catching momentarily on his skin as they did. Sam let out an involuntary sound at the sharp sting.

“Get. Your hands. Off. My brother.”

“Come here and make me, Dean-o.”

Sam’s jacket and shirts pooled uselessly onto the tabletop, and Cole ripped them away. Goosebumps danced their way down his back and arms in response to the fear or the horror or, hell, maybe just in response to the cold empty air.

The scissors made short work of his jeans and boxers, and soon Sam was standing in nothing except his boots, shackled against the heavy table. His knife was still resting against his left ankle, but Sam had no way of getting to it. He shivered.

Cole opened the scissors wide, and used one blade to trail down Sam’s arm, leaving a white scratch against the vulnerable skin. He paused at the crook of Sam’s arm and dug the point in, bringing a tiny bead of blood to the surface.

“Beg your brother to come and save you.”

“The only one begging tonight will be you, asshole,” Dean said. “You’ll be begging for me to kill you.”

“Sounds fun,” Cole replied, dragging the scissor blade over the back of Sam’s neck. “Can’t wait to see you try. How far are you, Dean-o?”

Sam was trying to breathe normally, but the metal started scooting over the bumps of his spine, drifting lower, and his breath came out as a whimper instead. He tried to cut it off before Dean heard, but he was too late.

“What’s he doing, little brother?”

For the first time, Dean was talking to him directly. Cole sniggered as the scissor blade reached the top of Sam’s ass.

“Tell him, Sammy,” he ordered, and the metal slide between Sam’s cheeks. Sam tried not to think about the damage those sharp blades could cause there, if Cole accidentally pushed too hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t say anything, not trusting his voice.

“Sammy,” Cole and Dean said in unison, in equal tones of warning.

“I want to know exactly what he’s doing,” Dean said, “so I know exactly how long I should take ripping out his intestines.”

“Tell him,” Cole repeated, with a warning snip against the skin of Sam’s thigh.

Sam jerked. “He’s... he’s just scratching my skin with the scissors.” He hoped that was all Cole planned on doing.

He hoped in vain. Cole closed the scissors and manoeuvred them to tap against Sam’s hole, making him jerk in horror, gasping. He shut his mouth in an attempt to keep any further noises in, but when Cole pushed against him he automatically shouted. The unforgiving metal breached him, and the pain was hot but the metal was so, so cold, and he couldn’t jerk away from it at all.

Dean was growling, literally growling, down the phone.

Cole suddenly yanked the scissors out and dropped them on the table again, picking up the phone. With one hand, he held the phone in front of Sam’s face, and with the other, he fisted Sam’s hair and yanked sharply backwards. Sam winced as some hairs sprang loose from their home in his scalp, and heard the snap of the camera shutter as Cole took a photo.

“I’m sending you something,” Cole said. “Just so you can see his face while you listen to him scream. It’s a little bloody, his nose might be broken, but you can still recognise your brother, can’t you?”

“I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will _end_  you.”

“Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Cole put the phone on the edge of the table and stood right next to it, opening his zipper slowly, so Dean could hear. Dean was snarling by the time the zipper was fully open. Cole grinned and put the phone back in the centre of the table, close enough to catch any sound Sam made, but far enough away that he couldn’t reach it.

Sam’s breath was coming in ragged gasps, and even though he knew it was useless, he couldn’t stop himself from yanking at the shackles around his wrists.

Cole draped himself over Sam’s body, and something hard nudged against the small of his back. Cole reached around him to pick up the condom, and opened it directly over the phone, crinkling the plastic loudly as he did. The muffled sound of honking horns and screeching wheels came through the phone speakers, and Sam imagined Dean ricocheting through a town with no regard for speed limits, red lights, or indeed road rules in general. He desperately tried to believe that the town Dean was in was the closest one to the warehouse, but then realised that a demon, even if it was his brother, might not improve his current situation at all. Then Cole moved to line himself up against Sam’s hole, and Sam realised he didn’t care if half of hell turned up to save him, if it meant Cole stopped.

“I’m about to fuck you,” Cole whispered in his ear, just loud enough for the phone to pick up. “And it’s going to hurt. A lot. I want you to know that no matter how loud you scream, or how pretty you beg, I will not be stopping, but I want you to scream and beg anyway.”

And then he began to push.

There was a tremendous _bang_  and the wall shook slightly. Sam thought maybe Cole had pushed too hard and had accidentally ripped Sam in half, but an experimental wiggle revealed he was still, for the most part, whole, and Cole was still angled against him, though thankfully, blessedly, outside him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cole said pleasantly, as though he didn’t currently have his dick pressed against Sam’s ass.

A low, answering growl reverberated through the warehouse, and Sam’s eyes widened. Dean had arrived.

“Cole,” he said urgently, “unlock these cuffs, quickly. Jesus, Dean’ll kill you. He’ll kill _me_.”

Cole ignored him completely. “So those strange markings actually do work, eh? Interesting.” Sam waited for the man to be ripped away from him, but nothing happened.

“You tell your new friend here about demon traps, Sammy?” came Dean’s voice. Sam froze, and tried to look over his shoulder.

“I took the liberty of using some of that satanic crap,” Cole told him, “since you were so worried about Dean... _hurting_... me.”

Sam shook. “Dean!” he called, but no one responded. At least, no one human. There was just a low, animal sound of fury. Then Cole was positioning himself again, and with one hard, brutal thrust, was pushing himself into Sam.

A howl of rage split the cold, empty air. The only reason Sam knew he hadn’t made the sound was because his throat had closed over.

 _How odd_ , he thought dazedly.  _I appear to be choking._

He couldn’t bring himself to care. His mind wandered half-heartedly over the pattern in the wood table, idly picking out shapes in the surface. Some part of him knew, could feel, what was happening to him, but a much larger part of his brain was frozen, in shock, and refusing to feel anything at all. He sequestered himself in this frozen section of his mind, and ignored the feel of his overstrained muscles, and the large hands digging bruises into his hips. He also ignored the animal howl of rage that was filling the air, and he especially ignored the burn and heat radiating from inside him.

The grainy wood pattern was rocking slightly, as though Sam were on a ship. His brain tried to make a joke out of the word “seamen” but skittered away from the entendre. His nose rubbed against the tabletop in rhythmic punches.

"You're a dead man," someone was saying. Well, not saying. Growling.

“Only going to be one death today, Dean-o, but I wouldn’t call you a man. _God_ , but your brother is tight. You ever try this?”

A growl.

“I take it you have then. Huh. So the rumours are true.”

Another growl.

“Don’t worry, _ah_ , I won’t leave you over there for long. I’ll just, _ngh_ , mark your brother up a bit more, then you and I can have- have a chat. _Fuck_.”

Something heavy draped over Sam’s back, and he pushed himself back into his frozen mind. _Don’t feel_ , he said to himself. _Don’t feel, don’t feel, block it out_.

There were teeth on the meaty part of his shoulder, digging in, and his nose was being pushed against the tabletop again, making his eyes water. He hoped there weren’t any pieces of cartilage that were about to get shoved into his eye socket or something.

Cole moved his teeth to Sam’s other side, and bit down again. Sam couldn’t push himself back into the frozen section of his mind. Cole found another sensitive spot, this time on Sam’s neck, and bit again.  _Don’t feel!_ He yelled at himself, but Cole was gnawing at his flesh, and his arm was weak with pain, and his nose and face were swollen and throbbing, and his entire lower half was in almost unbearable agony. Cole closed his teeth around the same spot, and this time Sam was fully awake to feel it.

“ _Aah!_ ” he cried.

“Back with us, S-Sammy? Just in time.” And then Sam felt himself get shoved up the table as Cole pushed himself further into Sam’s body, as far as he could go, and cried out his release. Sam could literally feel the twitching of Cole’s cock inside him, and he gagged. He tried to succumb to darkness again, but the pain in his body was keeping him awake, now, instead of pushing him under.

Cole’s breathing slowed down, and Sam felt him grinning against the mess he’d made of Sam’s neck.

“Thanks, kid. I think I worked out most of my frustration,” he chuckled. “I can give Dean my full attention now, and I won’t accidentally kill him too quickly.” Cole stood up and slid backwards, pulling out of Sam and making him hiss. Sam felt dampness on his thighs, and since Cole had worn a condom he was pretty sure the wet feeling was his own blood.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’ll let you go as soon as Dean’s tied up for me nicely.” Sam could hear Cole’s feet scuffing along the dusty floor, as though he was making a big show of nonchalantly approaching his enemy. “Maybe I’ll tie him to the same table, hmm? Let you both bleed onto the same wood. Maybe I’ll bend him over, too. Make him take my cock.”

“Come here and make me,” said Dean quietly. Cole’s feet scuffed further from Sam, towards Dean.

Sam realised what was going to happen a moment too late.

“Cole!” he tried to muster strength into his voice. “Don’t break the seal!”

But it was too late. There was a bang, and a scream, and then silence. Cole’s boots had scuffed away the devil trap markings. Sam started pulling at his restraints again, trying to get free. There were demon cuffs in his duffel, if he could get to it.

“Hello, little brother.”

Sam sobbed in fear, and continued pulling.

“You forget that you belong to me, Sammy?”

A hand came halfway around Sam’s neck, fingertips pressing into his windpipe.

“No, Dean. God, no!” He choked as the fingers squeezed for a moment before releasing. “He- he caught me. Tied me to a chair-”

“I don’t want to hear what he did to you,” snarled Dean. “I don’t want to see his fingerprints on you, or his teeth. I will _ruin_  you, Sam. _Ruin you_.”

Then there was the cold press of steel against Sam’s shoulder, right above the indentations of Cole’s teeth, and he looked over just in time to see the blade bite into his flesh, deep, and before he passed out he realised that Dean was literally cutting away all evidence of another man on his body..

“Dean,” he whispered, over the wet sound of his own skin and blood, and then he fell into darkness.

\------------------ 

This time, when he woke up, there was no confusion, no black bag blocking his vision. There was just pain, and the steady _drip drip drip_  of Sam’s blood as it leaked onto leather

He was sitting, mostly upright, in the front seat of the Impala, which had been pulled into the warehouse. It was obvious that Dean had positioned the car on purpose, so Sam had a full view of the scene beyond the windscreen. Dean was standing above a pile of red rags, which Sam shuddered to realise was actually Cole. The soldier was tied to the same table Sam had been on, and Dean was fucking into him, carelessly cutting with the First Blade as he did.

Sam began to turn his head, but cried out in pain instead. His neck was on fire. He looked into the rearvision mirror and, below the bruising on his nose and jaw, saw a square of bleeding skin. Dean had flayed him; had cut the skin out and peeled it from his body.

“You awake, Sammy?” Sam flinched as Dean called out to him. “Just in time.” Then Dean’s face contorted, and Sam watched him orgasm into Cole, snarling. Sam looked around wildly for a weapon, and his eyes lighted on his duffel. Dean had put it in the back seat. Ignoring the pain in his shoulders, neck, face and, shit, everywhere else, really, Sam grabbed at the bag. His fingers slipped on the zip as he tried to open it. _Hurry, hurry, hurry_.

He looked up to see Dean wiping his blade on Cole’s clothes, though the rags looked even bloodier than the knife, if that was possible. He caught a glimpse of Dean’s cock, too, shining with semen and blood, and then his fingers closed around the demon cuffs, and he shoved the bag away, stowing the cuffs between his back and the seat just as Dean turned to face the car.

He tried to slow his breathing, had no idea what look was on his face as Dean walked toward the car, naked. A predator stalking its prey.

The car door opened, and Dean leaned down to look in.

“Is he alive?” Sam asked.

“I don’t care,” Dean replied, and then he fisted his bloody cock. “Clean me up, Sam,” he ordered.

Sam kept his mouth shut and didn’t move. His fingers tightened on the cuffs behind him.

“I won’t ask twice,” the demon said, coldly. When Sam still didn’t move, Dean ducked into the front seat and reached for him, a look of bored malice on his face. He grabbed Sam by the hair and began to haul him forward, toward the blood and gore covering his erection. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, and then Sam reached for the hand in his hair, and snapped the demon cuff around his brother’s wrist.

“It’s over,” he said, then pulled the wrist toward the steering wheel, locking it into place. “It’s over.”

Dean’s voice was quiet, and held all the promise of murder. “Sam,” he said. But Sam ignored him. He kicked his way out of the passenger seat, and fell onto the concrete floor, bringing up a cloud of dust. His phone was a few feet away, shattered and sticky with blood, but still on. He dialled Castiel.

He had time to give an address, and then, to the sound of Dean’s screams, he let himself pass out. Next time he woke up, he fervently hoped there would be painkillers and ice waiting for him.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this fic twice, and the other one is human!Dean getting all protective and comforty because Sam's hurt. Although both fics are from the same episode the only bit they share is the pairing, and Cole whipping out the scissors. You can read the other fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7562959), if you like a bit of protective!Dean with your porn ;)
> 
> Always love your feedback. Let me know what you think. Did you like protective!human!Dean or cruel!demon!Dean better?


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